The 1902 Victor Herbert House - 321 West 108th Street

 

Born in London in 1844, Thomas Graham attended public schools in New York City.  His father was a builder and, upon coming to America, a staunch abolitionist.  Thomas set out on a career in architecture, studying in the office of Jardine & Thompson.  But he left at the outbreak of the Civil War to serve with the First New York Engineers.  Upon his return to New York, he learned the cabinet making and stair building trades, but switched careers again in 1870 when he again took up architecture and building.

In 1898, Leslie's History of the Greater New York noted, "He now has his son, William Van Wyck Graham, associated with him in various building operations."  William was 25 years old at the time and he and his father had just embarked on a new project--seven upscale row houses on West 108th Street between Riverside Drive and  Broadway.  Thomas acted as architect while William was the owner and builder of record.

By the fall of 1899 the houses, stretching from 317 to 329 West 108th Street, were taking shape.  On November 4, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported on the homes, which Thomas Graham described as "the finest and best equipped American basement residences ever offered to the public for sale in this city."  The article noted, "They are all built, finished and fitted in the most approved style of modern domestic construction, with hard woods, tiles, mosaics, sanitary plumbing, and the closest attention to the necessity of producing large, airy apartments, rich in appearance and containing all the requirements of elegance and comfort."  Although the row was nearly a year from completion, William Van Wyck Graham had "prepared elegant books containing elevations and floor plans" for potential buyers.

Thomas Graham's rendering depicted a street filled with well-to-do pedestrians.  No. 321 is third from right.  Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide, November 4, 1899 (copyright expired)

Successful and engaged to be married, young William Van Wyck Graham seemed to be leading an enviable life.  But on September 1, 1900 The Sun reported, "William Van Wyck Graham, 25 years old, son of Thomas Graham, a New York architect, committed suicide late last night on the lawn in front of the New York Infant Asylum by drinking enough carbolic acid to kill a dozen men."  The article noted, "Graham was engaged to be married and a letter from the young woman dated Aug. 20 was found in his pocket.  It was evident that he had visited her while he was drinking and that they had quarreled."

Devastated, Thomas Graham stopped work on the West 108th Street project.  The property changed hands twice and the final owner, Hugh J. Gallagher, commissioned the architectural firm of Horgan & Slattery to complete the houses.  The row was completed in 1902, four years after ground was broken.

On May 10, 1902, the Record & Guide reported that Jacob D. Butler (Hugh J. Gallagher, it turned out, was a pseudonym used at the time of the property's purchase) had sold 329 West 108th Street, "an American basement dwelling on lot 30x65."  The handsome, Renaissance Revival-style mansion was faced in gray brick above a limestone base.  The full-width, faceted oriel of the second and third floors was enhanced with Corinthian pilasters carved with elaborate Renaissance designs.  The openings of the fourth and fifth floors sat within a single frame, its spandrel panel intricately carved.

The initial owner's residency was short lived.  In 1904, composer, conductor and cellist Victor Herbert and his wife, the former operatic soprano Theresa Förster, purchased the house.  The couple had two children, Ella Victoria and Clifford Victor.

The Herberts' new home is third from the right.

Born in Ireland on February 1, 1859, Herbert began his musical career as a cellist in Vienna and Stuttgart.  He met Theresa in 1885 while she was a member of the Stuttgart court opera and he was part of the court orchestra.  They married in August 1886 and moved to America two months later.

Victor Herbert's Babes In Toyland had opened at the Majestic Theatre a few months before the family moved into the West 108th Street house.  Starting in 1904, Herbert gave weekly concerts at the venue, The New York Times saying on December 4 that year, "The popularity of the Victor Herbert Sunday night concerts at the Majestic Theatre was demonstrated again last evening by an audience that filled the house."

Herbert converted the fifth floor of the residence to his studio.  Here, and in the family's country home, Camp Joyland at Lake Placid, he wrote his operettas and other scores.  According to the composer, he worked in his studio in the mornings, took a brisk walk, then attended to business downtown.  But soon after moving into the West 108th Street house, his morning quietude was shattered.

Living next door at 323 West 108th Street was a family whose teenaged daughter played piano.  Neil Gould, in his A Theatrical Life-Victor Herbert, explains,

The young lady was accustomed to practicing her Czerny [piano exercises] for three hours each morning--about the same time that Herbert loved to compose...The young lady's music penetrated the wall of Herbert's studio and disturbed his routine.

Theresa solved the matter.  She went next door, introduced herself and explained the problem--the famous composer could neither think nor write.  A compromise was reached and the young pianist practiced in the afternoons and the tranquility of Herbert's morning hours was restored.

Ella's introduction to society came in 1907 and she quickly flexed her social wings.  On October 29, 1908, The New York Times reported, "Miss Ella Herbert, the daughter of Victor Herbert, the composer and orchestra leader, gave a party at the home of her father, 321 West 108th Street, last night in the form of a double celebration, it being Miss Herbert's nineteenth birthday and the wedding day of her friend, Miss May O'Gorman, daughter of Supreme Court Justice O'Gorman, to Dudley Malone."

On January 27, 1911, the newspaper reported that Ella "gave a small luncheon at her house yesterday in honor of Miss Eva Ingersoll-Brown, a debutante.  Afterward Miss Herbert took her guests to a theatre."

Victor Herbert, from the collection of the Library of Congress

Later that year, on September 30, Victor Herbert was involved in a bizarre accident.  His chauffeur, Frank Sabefe, was taking him to the Knickerbocker Theatre.  They had nearly arrived there when Sabefe slowed the automobile "to fall in behind a street car bound in the same direction," according to The Sun.  As he did so, a wagon owned by the New Amsterdam Gas Company slammed into the car.  The article said, "The horse climbed into the front of Mr. Herbert's automobile and damaged the car to the extent of $200."  No one was hurt and Herbert did not press charges, although he directed his attorney to "settle the question of damages with [the] company."

The truce with the family next door remained in effect until 1911 when Herbert's peace was once again shattered.  That family moved away and Dr. Fery Lulek established his Conservatory of Music in the house.  Moving in with Lulek, writes Neil Gould, were "a violiniste and two pianistes as female artists were then known...eight vocalists, and, together with Mrs. Mary Turner as chaperone, and her daughter 'Miss Jean' as piano coach."  He adds, "As Victor and Theresa watched in disbelief, in they came: eight chirping sopranos, four Steinway pianos (one for each floor) and a pubescent Paganini."

The New York Herald explained on October 23, 1912, the conservatory moved in "a few months ago, while [Herbert] was whipping his new composition, 'The Lady of the Slipper,' into shape."  The article said, "No muse, no matter how domestic, would abide amid such clanging and banging, and the composer's inspiration fled."

Once again Theresa went next door.  Mary Turner agreed to move the pianos to the west wall, away from the Herbert side, and remove the piano from the fifth floor.  It did not work.  Theresa returned, this time suggesting that the conservatory might move.  Expectedly, that was not acceptable and the neighbors ended up in court, with the Herberts charging the conservatory with "disorderly conduct."

Teresa complained in court, "Such technique, such awful method, such attack, such rendition of scales!  It is terrible.  Never have I heard such singing."  

Mrs. Turner then took the stand to defend her students.  "We are sorry if we annoy the Herberts, but what can we do?  We have moved the pianos.  We do not practice all the pianos at one time, as Mrs. Herbert said.  No doubt the Herberts do not enjoy the music.  It is quite likely they do not appreciate our music.  Thank heaven, it isn't the kind of music Mr. Herbert writes.  We play classical music!"

The Herberts lost their case and so Theresa sued again, this time saying the music was a "public nuisance."  But since the law defined a "public nuisance" as affecting "more than one household," her suit was dismissed.  In desperation, Herbert contracted the American Gypsum Company to soundproof his studio.

The New York Herald explained, "He understood that they would make a padded cell of it, so that he could wrestle with the piano to his heart's content and not be disturbed by intramural harmonies.  The walls, ceiling and floor of the room were padded and lined and then the company sent in its bill for $220.55."

The New York Herald, October 23, 1912 (copyright expired)

To celebrate Herbert's 54th birthday, he and Theresa held a dinner party on February 1, 1913.  A few of the guests included tenor Enrico Caruso, Senator James O'Gorman and his wife, producer Joseph Grismer, librettist Otto Hauerbach and "Nathan Burkan, a lawyer, who recently convinced the courts that Mr. Herbert's alleged soundproof studio isn't any such thing."  (The padded room was a failure.)  During the evening a string quartet "played selections from Mr. Herbert's operas and his pieces de salon."

Victor Herbert's morning strolls were soon derailed by malodorous fumes wafting across the Hudson River.  He testified before the State Board of Health on April 29, 1918 about "the evil odors that emanate from chemical plants on the New Jersey side of the river."  He told the commissioners, "It is positively the worst nuisance in the world, and unless something is done to stop it it will mean a serious risk to health to live in the vicinity of Riverside Drive."

The New York Times recounted, "Mr. Herbert said he spent much time composing at home, and was accustomed to indulge in strolls for exercise.  He said he was accustomed as soon as his nose sniffed the presence of an odor not particularly harmonious to avoid it by walking in the opposite direction."

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

On the morning of May 26, 1924, as reported by the Musical Observer, Herbert "left his home, No. 321 West 108th Street, New York, at 11 o'clock in the morning...apparently in the full vigor of health."  Ella drove him downtown.  He worked with his publisher, Harms, Inc., then had lunch at the Lambs.  Shortly afterward, he felt ill and headed to the office of his physician, Dr. Emmanuel Baruch.  Rather coldly, Variety reported that as he was climbing the stairs, "America's foremost composer and one of the most skilled musicians who ever adapted his talent to the theatre dropped dead."

Newspapers filled his obituary with lists of his works: operettas, a grand opera, an oratorio and a cantata, and motion picture scores.  His funeral was held on May 28 at St. Thomas' Episcopal Church.  Variety noted that among the honorary pallbearers were John Philip Sousa, Jerome Kern, Nahan Franko, Senator James A. O'Gorman, and Charles M. Schwab.

Herbert left the 108th Street house to Theresa.  Other than $10,000, which went to Clifford, she and the children shared equally with the rest of the estate, including Camp Joyland.

On August 23, a three-day auction "of the furniture and appointments" of 321 West 108th Street began.  The New York Times reported, "Much of the furniture, rugs and belongings were purchased by the new owner of the house, Captain Damer of Buffalo.  (Various newspapers spelled his name Demar and Dammer, as well.)  Variety mentioned, "The composer's widow and daughter have taken a Park avenue apartment as their city residence."  (Instead, Therese and Ella moved into 1010 Fifth Avenue where Theresa died on February 24, 1927.)

The former mansion was operated as unofficial apartments in the subsequent decades.  Then, in 1965, it was converted to two apartments per floor.  Today there are five rental units in the building.  Happily, much of the interior details survive.

photographs by the author

The Lost Fritz and Bertha Achelis House - 9 East 57th Street

 

photograph by Wurts Bros, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

On November 11, 1901, Chauncey Kilmer died in his four-story, brownstone-faced mansion at 9 East 57th Street.  He left an estate "valued at $1,000,000," according to the Troy, New York Daily Times.  That figure would translate to about 38 times that amount in 2025.  Less than a month later, on December 5, The New York Times reported that Kilmer's estate had sold the 28-foot-wide residence.  Frederick Fritz Achelis paid $175,000 for the property (about $6.6 million today).

Achelis was known professionally by his middle name.  He and his wife, the former Bertha Franzisca Koenig were born in 1843 and 1855 respectively, and were married on July 4, 1878.  The couple had three children, twins Margaret Julie and Alette Elisabeth, and Fritz (or Frederic) George.  (Another child, Bertha Dorothea, had died at the age of one in 1881.)

Fritz and Bertha commissioned esteemed architect C. P. H. Gilbert to remodel the outdated house, built in 1881.  He stripped off the brownstone facade and replaced it with limestone.  Behind the tall, impressive iron fencing, the stoop rose to a columned portico that upheld a stone-railed balcony at the second floor.  The rusticated basement and parlor levels gave way to planar stone at the upper floors.  A three-sided oriel at the second floor provided one of the two balconies at the third floor.  A handsome balustraded parapet sat atop the cornice.  The renovations cost the Achelises the equivalent of $571,000 today.

Achelis was president of the American Hard Rubber Company, established by Bertha's father, Friedrich Wilhelm Koenig.  He was, as well, a partner with Bertha's brother-in-law, George F. Vietor, in the dry goods and textile firm Frederick Vietor & Achelis.  The couple's 49-acre summer home, Wiesenach, was in Seabright, New Jersey.  

The mansion at Wiesenach was built in 1889 and designed by Henry Hudson Holly.  photograph by Pach Brothers from the collection of Rugers University Libraries.

The renovations to 9 East 57th Street were completed by the end of the 1902 summer season.  On October 6, the New York Herald reported, "Mr. and Mrs. Fritz Achelis and family, who are still at their country place, Wiesenach, Rumson Road, Seabright, N. J., will this winter occupy the house No. 9 East Fifty-seventh street."

While Bertha Achelis continued to host entertainments and involve herself in philanthropic work, in 1909 she became a force in the nationwide debate about women's right to vote.  On March 17 that year, The Evening Post announced, "The home of Mrs. Fritz Achelis, at No. 9 East Fifty-seventh Street, will be thrown open on Monday afternoons hereafter to the Anti-Suffragists.  Prominent 'Antis' will explain the position of the women who are opposed to ballots for their sex."  The article mentioned that Bertha "is an active member of the executive committee of the State Association Opposed to Woman Suffrage."

Seven months after that article, Bertha was appointed chairman of the State Association Opposed to Woman Suffrage.  On October 2, 1909, the New-York Tribune noted, "Mrs. Achelis is entirely free for the present to give all her time to the work, and she intends to do it, she says."  Explaining that she disliked protest marches and brash publicity, she told the reporter in part, 

I don't approve of public meetings or of public debates.  Contentious discussion advances nothing, and in debates people often speak without very deep thought.  We never want to speak without reflection, and we are going to take great pains not to make any statements that are not absolutely correct.  We are going to be very conservative, strong and thorough, I hope, but not aggressive or sensational.

(Bertha's laid-back philosophy was starkly different to those of pro-Suffragists like Alva Vanderbilt Belmont and may have contributed to the Anti-Suffragists' eventual defeat.)

Fritz George Achelis graduated from Yale in 1907 and joined his father's American Hard Rubber Company.  His engagement to Helen Bruff was announced on January 26, 1913, The Sun mentioning that he, "is a member of several well known clubs, including the Yale, Delta Kappa Epsilon and Rumson Country clubs."

Interestingly, the wedding, which took place on April 16, was held in the East 57th Street mansion.  (House weddings traditionally were held in the home of the bride's family.)  The Sun explained, "Owing to the recent death of the bride's grandmother, Mrs. Richard P. Bruff, the ceremony will be celebrated quietly and there will be no reception."

By the time of the wedding, the Midtown neighborhood was quickly transforming from one of sumptuous private residences to a commercial district.  Millionaires moved uptown along Central Park, and their homes were converted for business or razed.  

On December 22, 1917, the Record & Guide reported, "Harry Collins, Inc. costumes, leased for ten years, the one-time residence of Fritz Achelis, at 9 East 57th street...The building will be remodeled for occupancy by the lessee."  The annual rental, $11,259, would equal about a quarter of a million dollars today.  Architects Cross & Cross sympathetically altered the mansion for the clothing firm, including an additional floor that sat back from the roofline.

Harry Collins, Inc. included a sketch of the remodeled mansion in its opening announcement in The New York Times on March 3, 1918 (copyright expired)

Henry Collins, Inc. opened on March 5, 1918 with a benefit fashion show called "A Fashion Fete of Suits: Gowns, Wraps, Millinery."  Society patrons paid a $2 admission charge.  An announcement in The New York Times noted, "The two-day event will be for the benefit of the blind soldiers.  A host of artists have offered their talents, contributing to a most delightful terpsichorean and musical program."

Henry Collins, Inc. leased the building through 1921, after which Tappe, Inc., another society millinery and gown shop, moved in.  On April 19, 1922, Floyd Macdonald, the firm's shipping clerk, was working in the basement when Mr. Tappe's pet fox terrier, JoJo, began barking.  It prompted Macdonald to investigate and he discovered "shooting flames" in an area of the basement.  The New York Times reported, "The 200 young women who are employed in the establishment became panic-stricken as the clouds of smoke filled every stairway and exit, and it was with difficulty that some of them were rescued."

Specifically, Kitty Robinson was trapped on the third floor.  The article said that she, "hastily knotted together a couple of sheets and slid down the improvised rope into the rear areaway."  Happily for her, a policeman caught her and saved her life, according to Mr. Tappe.  Cecelia Tappe, a partner in the firm, was discovered unconscious on the top floor by a firefighter.  "He picked her up and carried her to the roof, where he dropped from overexertion," said The New York Times.  "Patrolman Thompson...got them to safety."

The article said that "nearly $10,000 worth of hats and dresses" were destroyed, including gowns belonging "to Mrs. George Vanderbilt and Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt."  The building suffered damages equivalent of $935,000 today.

The fire resulted in the lower floors being completely remodeled.  A glass-fronted show window and entrances replaced Gilbert's limestone front at street level.

An advertisement offering the building for lease boasted the new storefront.  International Studio, September 1924 (copyright expired)

Bertha Koenig Achelis died in 1921.  Three years later, on December 23, 1924, Fritz Achelis died at the age of 81.  On March 28, 1925, the Record & Guide reported that the Achelis estate had sold the building.  Before the end of the year, The Cumulative Daily Digest of Corporation News reported that a "completed building" had replaced the former Achelis mansion.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The Dr. John E. and Katherine MacKenty House - 111 East 61st Street

 

Adolphus Smedberg and his wife, the former Mary Ludlow Morton, were both born in 1835.  They had a son, Harry Ashton, and were living in the newly built, brownstone-fronted house at 111 East 61st Street in 1872 when their second son, Adolphus, Jr., was born.  Apparently sharing the residence with the Smedbergs were Adolphus's sister and her husband.  William Adams, Smedberg's brother-in-law, died here on January 21, 1876 at the age of 61.

The Smedbergs appear to have moved in 1878, when Harry was attending Columbia.  The following year, the Ellison family occupied the house, and by the mid-1880s, it was home to the Wattles family.  On December 23, 1886, the New-York Tribune announced, "Mrs. Wattles held a large reception and tea yesterday from 4 until 6 o'clock, at No. 111 East Sixty-first-st., to introduce her daughter, Miss Wattles.  Over two hundred guests called."

Harris D. and Elizabeth B. Colt, real estate operators, purchased the "four-story stone front dwelling," as reported by the Real Estate Record & Guide, in 1901.  They leased it to a succession of well-to-do families.

In an article titled "Some Recent Flittings" on November 11, 1906, for instance, The New York Times noted, "Mr. and Mrs. John Wesley Peale [moved] to their new house, 111 East Sixty-first Street."  

Following the Peales here were Charles A. Shearson, his wife, the former Jessie McCullough, and their adopted son, Charles, Jr.  Born in Galt, Ontario, Canada in 1856, Shearson came to New York in 1903.  He was a member of the New York Cotton Exchange and a partner in the cotton brokerage firm of Shearson, Hammill & Co.  His brother, Edward, also lived in the East 61st Street house.

In the early 20th century, births, deaths, and minor operations took place within the homes of the affluent.  On the evening of January 22, 1910, the 54-year-old Edward A. Shearson, Sr. underwent an appendicitis operation in his bedroom.  He did not survive.

In August the following year, Arthur A. Fowler and his wife, the former Elizabeth Bonright, signed a lease.  They appear to have remained here until May 29, 1919, when the house was sold to Dr. Alfred Wild Gardener and his wife, Mary E., for $60,000 (about $1 million in 2025 terms).

Shortly after Mary's death in February 1923, Dr. Wild sold 111 East 61st Street to Dr. John Edmund MacKenty and his wife, the former Katherine Gilman.  Before moving in, they hired architect Edward S. Hewitt to drastically remodel the outdated brownstone.

Hewitt stripped off the facade, removed the stoop, and pulled the front forward to the property line.  The new projected portion rose four stories.  The fifth floor sat back to provide a screened sleeping porch.  Hewitt's spartan neo-Georgian design included a handsome marble entrance with engaged columns and an elegant swan's neck pediment and urn.  The Flemish bond brick of the upper floors were trimmed with marble sills and reeded lintels, their ends decorated with carved rosettes.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Born in 1869, MacKenty married Katherine in 1898 in Washington D.C.  She was the daughter of Colonel Jeremiah H. Gilman and Katharine Rogers.  The couple had two children, John Gilman, and Katharine (known familiarly as Kit).  Kit was married to Reverend Wilhelminus B. Bryan, Jr. and lived in Springfield, Massachusetts.

Dr. John Edmund MacKenty had joined the medical faculty of McGill University in 1892.  He was now the senior surgeon at the Manhattan Eye, Ear and Throat Hospital.  His medical office on the ground floor was part of the renovations to 111 East 61st Street.  In 1925, the year they moved in, he invented a device that enabled "a person whose larynx had been removed to speak," as described by the New York Evening Post.  

It may have been Katherine's growing up in a military family that prompted her interest in the Army Relief Society.  In 1925, she was elected assistant treasurer of the organization.  She was also highly involved in the Women's City Club.  That same year, she was elected its director.

John Gilman MacKenty had graduated from the Sheffield Scientific School of Yale University in 1923.  When the family moved into 111 East 61st Street, he was working with the Radio Corporation of America (later RCA).  On February 27, 1926, his engagement to Katharine Walker was announced.  His marriage would not only add another Katharine to the family, but another connection to the military.  Katharine's grandfather was Colonel Aldace F. Walker.

Dr. MacKenty routinely submitted technical articles to medical journals, and in 1927 published two books, Cancer of the Larynx and Nursing in Diseases of the Eye, Ear, Nose and Throat.

On the night of December 11, 1931, MacKenty died in the East 61st Street house.  He was 62 years old.

Katherine leased the ground floor office to Dr. Otto V. M. Schmidt.  She remained here until suffering a fatal heart attack on November 29, 1938 at the age of 62.  Her funeral was held in the house on December 1.

On April 27, 1939, The New York Sun reported that Katherine MacKenty's estate had sold 111 East 61st Street to Regency Hall, Inc.  The article described the residence as "containing fifteen rooms and four baths," adding, "The house will be used for combination residence and doctor's office."

The office was used by several physicians.  Dr. William Lawrence Gatewood was here in 1946, and Drs. George A. Friedman and Nathan Millman were listed here in 1948 and 1949 respectively.

The end of the upper floors as a single-family home came in 1953 when they were converted to apartments.  Doctors in the ground floor office came and went throughout the subsequent years, perhaps the longest to remain being Dr. Percy Ryberg, here in the 1960s and '70s.

There are still apartments above the doctor's office today.  Although callous replacement windows disfigure Hewitt's neo-Georgian design, the house otherwise looks much as it did when the MacKentys remodeled the vintage 1870s rowhouse.

photograph by the author

A Tenement, A Saloon and a Synagogue - 169 Suffolk Street

 

Having a secondary structure in one's rear yard in the early 19th century was common.  It might be a workshop--carpenter or blacksmith shop, for instance--or a small stable or house for rental income.  But by mid-century the demographics of the neighborhood around Suffolk and East Houston Streets was teeming with newly-arrived immigrants, resulting in the rear building at 169 Suffolk Street to be much different that those early examples.

The brick-faced house at 169 Suffolk Street was erected around 1853.  It was 23-feet wide and three stories tall above an English basement.  The tenement building in the rear was two stories taller.  The sharing of a building lot with a house and a tenement seems to have been unusual, bordering on unique.  A horsewalk at sidewalk level that tunneled through the front house provided access to the rear building.

The horsewalk can been clearly seen in this 1941 photograph.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The main house was shared by at least two working-class German families in 1853.  Henry Keofman was listed as a "pedler," and Louis Rosenberg was a tinsmith.  While not affluent, the occupants were not impoverished, as was reflected in an advertisement in the New York Herald on November 8, 1855:

Dog Lost--A large white poodle, with black ears and black round spot on back.  A liberal reward will be paid on returning him to 169 Suffolk street, third floor.

Among the residents that year was Charles Hoffman, who listed his profession broadly as "music."  He would remain here at least through 1859.  At least eight families, all German, occupied the rear building that year.  Three were shoe or boot makers--Christien Brenck, Frederick Hein, and Reinhard Vogel.  Two, Nicolas Gering and Peter Ruffer, were cabinetmakers.  The others were Andrew Buhring, a cigar maker; Conrad Groh, a tailor; and Antoine Shultz, a smith.  

A major tenement fire on Elm Street in 1860 initiated a law that required buildings that housed eight or more families to have fire escapes.  The rear building at 169 Suffolk Street received a violation in 1863 and a subsequent visit by the inspector noted, "fire-escapes in course of construction."

 

At the time of the inspection, Conrad Groh had occupied his rooms in the tenement for at least five years and, surprisingly, would remain for decades.  His rooms were held for him, apparently, when he left the next year to fight in the Civil War.  Groh was not the only resident to serve.  In 1864, William Herwig, Phillip Buehler, William Dieterlich, Casper Hoffman and John Ehrhard joined him in enlisting in the Union Army.

Nine families were crowded into the front house in 1861.  Among them was Joseph Becherer, a turner (a person who made wooden spindles and such on a lathe).  Two others, turner John Ehrhard and Leonard Pfaff, who listed his profession as "sawing," worked with Becherer at 171 Suffolk Street.  

The three men assuredly knew Paul Kratt and Andrew Schwarzwalder.  Kratt ran a beer saloon at 171 Suffolk Street and Schwarzwalder made fishing rods at the address.  By 1864, Paul Kratt had moved his saloon to the basement of 169 Suffolk Street and he and his wife, Eva, moved into the main house.  By 1867 Andrew Schwarzwalder and his family were also living here.

Paul Kratt had problems in keeping on the right side of the law, at least initially.  On April 23, 1867, The New York Times reported that he had been arrested for keeping his saloon open on election day, and on June 16 the following year, the newspaper reported that he had been arrested for having the bar open on Sunday.

The two buildings continued to house mostly German-born working class tenants.  In 1880, Conrad Groh (who happily had survived the war) was still listed in the rear building after more than two decades.  Among his neighbors in the building were three carpenters, a framer, a shoemaker, and a tailor.  Similarly, sharing the front house with the Kratts were another saloon owner, Bernard Neuberger, two shoemakers and a tailor.  

Emma Wilkenson and her husband had a baby in February that year, whom they named William.  Emma worked as a servant at 445 West 56th Street.  She was arrested there on September 12, 1880.  The previous evening, seven-month-old William "died suddenly and under suspicious circumstances," as reported by The Evening Post.  Emma was arrested "on suspicion of having caused the child's death."

Emma's employer promised that if she were released, he would make certain that she would be present at the coroner's inquest.  Happily for the young mother, The Evening Post reported, "An examination made by the Coroner satisfied him that the child died from natural causes."

Paul Kratt died in 1881 and his intrepid widow took over the business.  Eva Kratt was listed as the owner of the saloon as late as 1892.

The conditions within the rear tenement were not necessarily as wretched as so many others at the time.  When the wife of one family had their fifth baby in 1888, the Society of the Lying-In Hospital visited their rooms, supplied help, and reported the situation:

 Rooms clean and tidy.  Husband a tailor out of work; was taking care of his wife and four small children.  No one to attend to patient.  Nurse will visit her every day and bathe the baby.  Scrub-woman to scrub and wash.  Have baby clothes, diet ticket and 25 cents for soup.  Second visit, scrub-woman busy.  All clean and the clothes washed.

Boys of tenement families went to work by, at least, their teen years.  Joseph Rauch, who was 16 in 1894, worked as an apprentice for a printer on Worth Street.  On January 18 that year, his employer sent him to purchase a "large can full of turpentine, to be used in the office," as reported by The Evening World.  Rauch was "lugging" the can back to the office when he was surrounded by 12 teens "who guyed him because he had to work while they could play," said the article.

One boy snatched his hat and ran away and another put a chunk of ice down the back of his shirt.  A third tried to wrest the can of turpentine from him.  In the struggle, the cork few off and Rauch's coat sleeve was saturated with the turpentine.  Despite the attacks, Joseph Rauch continued on his way, until Frank Mania sneaked up from behind and dropped a lighted match into the open can.

The Evening World reported, "Immediately there was an explosion that frightened the boys so that they all ran away."  Rauch's turpentine-soaked coat sleeve ignited.  The newspaper titled its article, "Rauch Was A Human Torch" and said he screamed, dropped the can and ran with a "stream of fire flaring in the air."  Fortunately, a cool-headed passerby put out the fire, but not before Rauch's arm and hand were badly burned.  Frank Mania was tracked down and arrested, but he was released the following morning for lack of evidence.

The Suffolk Street property was sold in April 1898 to Morgan J. O'Brien, who owned several tenement buildings.  The Kratt saloon became home to a tie manufacturer.  The following year, on August 24, a help-wanted advertisement in the New York Journal and Advertiser sought, "Operators on ties.  Friedman, 169 Suffolk st."

John Huttner lived here in 1904 with his wife and four children.  The 40-year-old worked as a driver at the coal yard of Muhlenberg & Co. on South Street.  He suffered a horrific accident on July 12 that year.  The New York Times said he was taking a load of coal from the yard when he was somehow thrown from the wagon to the ground.  The article said, "the wheels of the cart passed over him, killing him instantly."

Following Morgan J. O'Brien's death, his properties were sold at auction on February 14, 1907.  The announcement described 169 Suffolk Street as "the three-story and basement front and five-story rear brick tenements."

Among the tenants in 1910 were Nathan Hyman, a buttonhole maker, and his family.  A string of incidents that year caused Hyman excruciating misery.  It started with a city-wide cloakmakers strike that put him out of work and he fell behind in his rent.  Then, in August his wife died and a few days later Katherine K. Phelan, his landlady, summoned him to court on a eviction notice.

Hyman appeared in court on September 1.  He faced the judge weeping.  Justice Snitkin asked, "What's the matter?"  The New York Times recounted, "While he remained in his house mourning the seven days that is required by Jewish law he was summoned to court.  He was weeping because he had been forced to break this law, he said."

In 1915, Julius Bleiberg moved his plumbing business into the basement level.  His occupancy would be short lived.  He moved in 1917.  Assuredly it was because the property had been sold the previous year to Anshei Polen Talmud Torah congregation.  While the rear building continued to be rented as a tenement, the house was converted to a synagogue and yeshiva.

In 1918, the yeshiva had 100 boy students and three teachers.  Described by The Jewish Communal Register of New York City as a "communal weekday school," its pupils studied from 4:00 to 7:00 on weekday evenings, and from 10 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. on Sundays.

The congregation added a new cornice crowned with Stars of David.  image via the NYC Dept. of Records & Information Services.

The president of Anshei Polen Talmud Torah at the time was Henry Michael Greenberg, who was born in Russia in 1852.  He immigrated to the United States in 1872 and became president in 1914.

Among the residents of the rear building in 1936 were Sam Katz, who was annually listed by Government as a Communist Party sympathizer, and Steve Czoney.  The 53-year-old Czoney invited two friends over, William Chma and Samuel Womowsky, on September 7 that year when things got out of hand.  The following day, The New York Times reported that Chma and Czoney were "in critical condition today at Gouverneur Hospital from stab wounds allegedly inflicted by Samuel Womowsky."  (Womowsky was arrested and how his victims fared is unclear.)

By the Depression years, the synagogue was home to the Ottynier Society and the Society of Gwozelte.  The building was threatened on June 6, 1938 during Shavuoth services.  The Evening Post reported that during the Ottynier Society's services in the basement, "Burning wax set fire to a newly painted candelabrum, and the flames spread to a wall."  The New York Times said, "While six prayer-shawled members  carried out the Torah scrolls, about forty other worshipers fled to the street."  

Firefighters extinguished the blaze, which left "slight damage," according to The Evening Post.  The New York Times added, "In rooms directly above the basement, seventy five members of the Society of Gwozelte continued a similar service undisturbed."

The synagogue left in the second half of the century and in 1972 the building was converted to one apartment and a "fine art studio" on each floor, according to Department of Buildings records.  It was most likely during the renovations that the cornice was removed.  (The rear building was demolished in 1940.)  

photographs by the author

The 1852 Catherine Stapleton House - 321 Second Avenue

 

The upper floor windows were almost assuredly originally framed in stone.  photograph by Ted Leather

The first of the mansions that would encircle Gramercy Park (or Gramercy Place as it was sometimes called) began rising in the early 1840s.  A decade later, the high-tone tenor of the neighborhood had spread and in 1852 a row of identical homes were erected by the wealthy Stuyvesant family along the western side of Second Avenue between 18th and 19th Streets.

Four stories tall, they were two bays wide.  Unlike the English basement style homes that were proliferating throughout the city, their Anglo-Italianate design forewent high stoops.  Their arched entrances sat just above the sidewalk.

Likely a full-width cast iron balcony originally fronted the second floor windows.  photograph by Ted Leather

No. 321 Second Avenue became home to dressmaker Catherine Stapleton, who was most likely a widow.  The best of the dressmakers at the time created the wardrobes of wealthy socialites and earned significant incomes.  Catherine had a boarder in 1853, Samuel Durand, a moulder (a maker of castings or, sometimes, a brickmaker).  He may have occupied the smaller house in the rear yard.

Boarding with Catherine Stapleton by 1859 were Hannah Merritt Smith and Joseph Seymour Mathews, his wife Elizabeth, and their infant daughter, Fannie.  Mary Cleary, the widow of James Cleary, occupied the rear house.  Catherine Stapleton offered the parlor on June 5 that year for Hannah Smith's wedding to Caleb Green Dunn.

J. Seymour Mathews was a commissioner of deeds and an engrossing clerk within the Aldermen's Office.  (As an engrossing clerk he checked departmental entries for accuracy.)  He received a bonus of sorts on December 1, 1859 of $250 "for extra services," according to the Proceedings of the Board of Aldermen.  The windfall would translate to about $9,730 in 2025.

In June 1860, Manhattan society was captivated by the arrival of the first Japanese Delegation of the United States.  The 76 ambassadors were called "the Japanese princes," by newspapers.  J. Seymour Mathews was given a crushing responsibility.  He and Simon Myers were appointed "the principals in charge of the visit."

On June 30, 1860, five days after the the Japanese delegation left New York, Charles DeForest Fredricks created this portrait of Simon Myers and J. Seymour Mathews (right).  from the collection of Getty Museum.

Catherine Stapleton's parlor was the scene of little Fannie Mathews's funeral on December 5, 1861.  She died on December 3, one day after her second birthday.

Three months later, Joseph Seymour Mathews died here on March 19, 1862 at the age of 38.  His funeral was held in the Seventh Street Methodist Episcopal Church near Third Avenue.

By 1868, Thomas Ingham, an iron merchant, and his family occupied 321 Second Avenue and would remain until 1875 when Felix Marx moved in.  Marx ran an "eatinghouse" at 185 Church Street at the time.  By 1879 his son, J. L. Marx had joined him and they opened a second restaurant at 438 Broome Street.

Felix Marx leased 321 Second Avenue in 1881 to G. F. Abraham, who operated it as a boarding house.  Among his initial tenants was Rev. Griffith H. Humphrey.  The 32-year-old bachelor had been the pastor of the Welsh Presbyterian Church on East 13th Street for four years.  The Sun described the young minister as "a tall, slender man, with a full brown beard."  

In July 1882, Laura A. Jones came to New York from Llanberis, Wales.  She found a room in a boarding house on Eighth Avenue and became a member of the Welsh Presbyterian Church.  The Sun reported, "She was looking for employment and made frequent calls with this object on Mr. Humphrey at his residence, 321 Second Avenue."  The newspaper said, "He says he requested her not to call so often."  Her repeated visits, however, resulted in "much talk about their acquaintance."  By the early months of 1883, rumors were so rampant that Humphrey "requested the church to investigate the matter," according to The Sun.

Laura Jones was interviewed by church elders in April.  She told them that Rev. Humphrey had proposed marriage.  A few days later, she wrote to the deacons and retracted her statement.  Then, a few days after that, she asserted that Humphrey had again proposed to her.  When called to testify to that in person, she again retracted her statements.  She was expelled from the church "for falsehood."

With her out of the picture, Humphrey most likely thought he was free from scandal.  In the summer of 1883 he was married.  But Laura Jones reappeared.  On December 17 she sued Humphrey for $10,000 for breach of promise (about $323,000 today).  Her illegitimate child was born on December 30.

Rev. Humphreys was arrested at his residence on February 13, 1884 "on Miss Jones's complaint that he was the father of her child."  She told the court that "she had no means of support and was likely to become a charge on the county."  The trial revealed shocking testimony.  Boarders in the house where Laura Jones lived said they had seen her in bed with Ellis Owens, another boarder.  A Mrs. Crook testified that when Laura was first in a "delicate condition," she "asked her about Mr. Humphrey, and Miss Jones said there had never been anything wrong between them."  Rev. Griffith H. Humphrey was absolved of any crime.

Living here in the early 1890s were T. R. Fell, a stenographer who worked in the Mayor's Office; and Charles Walton, who worked for a painter and decorating firm.  Walton was estranged from his wife.  His employer, Leopold Freund, was known to the courts for abusing his employees with litigation.  The Evening World said Freund "has come to be known as a professional complainant."

Early in July 1894, Freund procured a summons on a charge "of stealing a pair of overalls" against Walton.  Walton did not appear in court and so on July 13, a court officer appeared at 321 Second Avenue.  The New York Times reported, "At Walton's home...he was told that the man he sought was at his wife's home, 116 Seventh Street."  What he was not told was that Walton was dead.

The article said that when the officer arrived to the wife's home, he "found preparations for a funeral in progress."  The article said:

The woman who answered the door bell explained that when Walton was served with a summons he took it so much to heart he went to his room and killed himself by inhaling gas.  Walton had lived apart from his wife, but when she heard of his death she had his body brought to her home.

The same day, Freund appeared in court against another employee, Henry Paul, whom he accused of stealing painting materials.  In the courtroom were friends of Walton who told the judge "that Freund had hounded the old man and thus drove him to suicide."  Justice McMahon responded by dismissing the complaint against Paul and ordered Freund out of court.  "You have fooled this Court long enough and you will do so no longer," he said.

Nellie Thomas worked as a salesperson and lived here as early as 1904.  Starting around 1902, John A. Price, a theatrical agent, became enamored with her.  On January 21, 1905, The Sun said, "for the past three years he has been paying court to Miss Thomas with poor success."  In fact, Price had become what today would be called a stalker.  The article said, "His attentions became so annoying that she caused his arrest six months ago, and he was put under bonds to keep the peace."

"Under bonds" was what today would be known as a restraining order.  During that time, Nellie began dating a young man.  On January 19, 1905--the same date that the restraining order expired--the two went out.  They were walking along East 17th Street when Price appeared.

"Hello, Nell.  Don't you love me any more?" he said.

"Don't you speak to me.  I don't want anything to do with you," she replied.

"I love you as the flowers love the sun.  You are driving me crazy, and I don't care what happens to me unless I get you for my wife.  Shoot me, throw me in the river, but don't say you won't be my wife.  Chase this young fellow away and say you love me."

Nellie said, "I've told you dozens of times that I'd never marry you.  If you speak to me again, I'll have you arrested."

At the time, Detective Bradley was walking on the opposite side of the street.  He later testified that he "saw Price raise a heavy cane and strike the young woman on the head with it.  The blow cut her scalp open and knocked her to the sidewalk."  Price ran down the street with Nellie's companion and Bradley in pursuit.  He was arrested a few blocks later.

Nellie's head wound needed stitches.  Later she signed a formal complaint.  In court Price told the judge, "Yes, I'm guilty.  Do with me as you like.  If I can't get my Nell, I don't want to live."

Nellie asked the prisoner, "Why did you beat me so?"

"Because I love you.  Do as you like with me."

Then, as is often the case with the victims of physical abuse and emotional control, Nellie began to soften.  She told the court, "He wants to marry me, Judge."

The magistrate responded, "So he tried to woo you with a club, eh?"

"It was only a cane, Judge, and I don't know as I want to press the complaint."

Nellie sat for a few moments, then walked over to Price.  "The two began talking earnestly," reported The Sun.  Nellie approached the bench and said, "Judge, we are going to get married.  Jack is a good fellow, and I know he didn't mean any harm."  The pair left the courtroom together.

On August 14, 1920, The New York Times reported that the Rutherfurd Stuyvesant estate had sold "the four-story dwelling 321 Second Avenue to Henry Braveman."  When he sold it a month later, the Record & Guide described the property as a "four-story tenement house."

In 1941 the stone details had been removed and the third floor windows shortened.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The building was renovated in 1922 to bachelor apartments.  The Certificate of Occupancy demanded, "not more than two families cooking independently on premises."  It was likely during the remodeling that the stone frames of the windows were replaced by brick.

photograph by Ted Leather

There were subsequent renovations over the next decades.  Today there are five apartments in the building.

many thanks to reader Ted Leather for suggesting this post